


Discovery Channel

by elicitillicit



Series: Assorted Drabbles and Shorts [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Daphne is a star, Daphne is my queen tbh, F/M, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 23:53:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4897072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elicitillicit/pseuds/elicitillicit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daphne blinks up at Pansy, wonders if she should ask if the look that her friend is going for is Ke$ha with the dollar sign or Taylor Swift in the Blank Space video, and decides to make that decision while vertical. </p><p>That’s when one of her cute new Jeffrey-Campbell-floral-cut-wedge-slide-sandals connects, unexpectedly, with something that says “ouch”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Discovery Channel

Daphne, who is three-quarters drunk and a lot happy, inexplicably finds herself lying spread-eagled out in the grass ( _actual_ grass, and not weed, to her everlasting disappointment).

Pansy leans over her, nonplussed. “Why are you _sleeping_? We’re at a _party_!”

Daphne blinks up at Pansy, wonders if she should ask if the look that her friend is going for is _Ke$ha_ with the fucking dollar sign or Taylor Swift in the _Blank Space_ video, and decides to make that decision while vertical.

That’s when one of her cute new Jeffrey-Campbell-floral-cut-wedge-slide-sandals connects, unexpectedly, with something that says _“ouch_ ”.

Not that that stops her from kicking it again – _ouch!_ – before finally clambering to her feet, hanging on to Pansy for balance. She scrutinises the thing on the ground, confused as to why someone _quite that almost naked_ is out here, in the middle of Draco’s yard, where _all the people_ can see that he wears loud red briefs with cute little frogs on them. Her ability to articulate her _super articulate_ thoughts, however, had disappeared somewhere around her fourth inappropriately-named drink snagged from Blaise, and all she manages is: “You’re on the ground.”

Frog-briefs winces and struggles into a sitting position, rubbing the back of his head. “Yes. You tripped over yourself and I was collateral damage.”

Daphne squints at him and notes that while he is seven-eighths starkers, he is also a lot sober. Which is weird, because usually everybody at Draco’s house parties is drunk about an hour in. “Where are your clothes?” She asks, looking him over appraisingly. Even whilst kind of drunk and really hazy, she can appreciate nice and tall and – those are _abs_!

Frog-briefs, who has _clearly_ noticed where her eyes are going, blushes and coughs uncomfortably before pointing to the ridiculously ostentatious marble lawn ornament that Draco’s dad commissioned when he got into Columbia. It’s now sporting a pink plaid shirt, and one of its hands is threaded through a pant leg of a pair of khakis. “Crabbe and Goyle,” he explains darkly. _Of-fucking-course_.

Daphne claps a hand over her mouth and giggles, which causes the world to spin and Pansy to hastily set her back down on the grass. “I’m going to get Theo – because I _cannot_ carry you back in by myself, _Daphne_ , I’m going to _stop_ buying you scones – so you will _stay here_ and _not move_ , OK? And _you_ ,” here she turns to Frog-briefs, “ _You do not touch her_ , or so help me fucking _god_ I will find you and _ensure_ that there is not enough left of you to clothe.”

Daphne waves cheerily at Pansy and leans back on her elbows, beaming at Frog-briefs, who is watching Pansy’s retreating back with a look of complete terror.

“Don’t worry,” she informs him blithely. “She exaggerates. Want to make out?”

He chokes, and is saved from having to answer by the timely (or untimely, depending on how one looks at it) intervention of Hermione Granger, whom Daphne _really_ , just, _really_ wants to take out shopping.

“ _Neville_ , oh my god, where are your – oh. OK. We’re getting them and then we are _out of here_. I don’t even know _why_ Harry wanted to come in the first place; this is _stupid_ and oh my _god_ – is that – _Greengrass_? Are you alright?”

Daphne’s elbows have given way and she is, once more, lying spread-eagled in the grass. Hermione’s face cuts into her line of vision, and Daphne laughs as she’s instantly reminded of every tight-lipped teacher that Pansy had irreverently sent crying out of the classrooms in their ridiculously expensive prep school. “Granger,” she smiles, and smiles a little wider (breaking out the dimples!) as Frog-brief’s face and floppy hair comes into view. “I want his number.”

Granger looks confused before Daphne flails her hand in Frog-brief’s face, almost taking his eye out. “You want _Neville_ ’s number?”

“Yes!”

Granger’s eyebrows rise so far up her forehead that they are almost lost in that nest that she charitably refers to as _hair_. “Neville _Longbottom_?”

Daphne chuckles and turns to Frog-briefs, lowering her lashes coquettishly. “ _Is_ it?”

If Frog-briefs was pink before, he’s beet red now.

“ _God_ , Greengrass, he’s in our Biology 102 lab. Have you honestly never noticed him until now?”

She ignores Granger and drops Frog-briefs a wink. “Do you want to do it like they do on the discovery channel?”

Granger sputters and Frog-briefs gapes, and Daphne feels incredibly smug for two seconds _flat_ before Granger straightens her spine with a snap that Daphne was _sure_ would be audible. “I’m going to get your clothes, Neville. And then we are _leaving_.”

There’s a brief silence as Daphne and Frog-briefs stare at each other in the wake of Hermione Granger’s exasperation. “I _am_ going to get your number, Frog-briefs,” Daphne assures him amiably. “Just not now, because I’m super drunk and I think I dropped my mobile in Draco’s mother’s floral centrepiece. Longbottom, Neville, Bio. Right?” 

Frog-briefs nods dumbly, and she likes the way he’s looking at her, eyes glued to her face instead of her chest (which she’s pretty certain is heaving from all the deep breathing she’s doing to avoid throwing up – because she really is a bit more than three-quarters drunk). She likes the way he’s smiling at her, a little scared and a lot shy. She’s drunk, yes, but she thinks she could really like him. And not just because of his abs – which are really, fucking _bitchin_.

They’re still gazing at each other when they’re interrupted by –

“ _Christ_ , Daph, this isn’t fucking Romeo and Juliet. Shoo, Toad. We’ll take it from here.”

Daphne allows Theo to brace her arm around his shoulders and spots the fond worry in Pansy’s eyes as she slides her arm around her waist. Granger is determinedly bouncing on the balls of her feet in an attempt to reach the khaki pants, and it’s actually fucking _hilarious_ , but all that Daphne cares about when she turns her head to look behind her is Frog-briefs, face soft, on his feet and watching her as she’s borne away like a fucking casualty.

She turns away when her neck starts to ache and concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other.

_Longbottom. Neville. Bio. Longbottom. Abs. Neville. Neville. Neville._


End file.
